< 

>— t 

2 


SANTA     CRUZ 


Presented  in  memory  ofj 
Craven  L.  Betts 


SANTA     CRUZ 


Moman'8 


TKc  Flcup  de  Lb 

A  WOMAN'S  f  -  i  •  i 
t  •  •*•  •  LOVE  LETTERS. 
BY  SOPHIE  AVAL/VVON-HENSLEY 


NEW  YORK.  J.  SELWIN  TAIT 
ANP  SONS,  1WM13E-R  SIXTY- 
PIVD  FIFTH  AVENUE.  •  i  •  * 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 


BY 


J.  SELWIN  TAIT  &  SONS, 

NEW  YORK. 


PS 

3SIS 


Contents, 

PAGE 

A  Dream, i 

Dream-Song 8 

Doubt ....    9 

Song • 13 

Anticipation, 14 

Song 18 

Misunderstanding .  19 

Shadow-Song,  23 

Revulsion 24 

A  Song  of  Dawn 27 

Weariness, 28 

A  Song  of  Rest, 31 

Death, 33 

Battle-Song 38 

,... Content 39 

Sea-Song 42 

Gratitude 44 

Song 48 

Prayer, 49 

Song 53 

Loneliness 54 

Sea-Song, 57 

Incompleteness, 59 

Song,  64 

Life's  Joys 65 

Song, .       .       .     ...  70 

Barter, .       .       .       .  72 

Song 76 

To-morrow,  78 

Song,  ...      82 


Jl  jPftKttt*  V 

I  STOOD  far  off  above  the  haunts  of  men 
Somewhere,  I  know  not,  when  the  sky 

was  dim 
From  some  worn  glory,  and  the  morning 

hymn 

Of  the  gay  oriole  echoed  from  the  glen. 
Wandering,  I  felt  earth's  peace,  nor  knew 

I  sought 

A  visioned  face,  a  voice  the  wind  had 
caught. 

I  passed  the  waking  things  that  stirred  and 

gazed, 
Thought-bound,    and   heeded   not;    the 

waking  flowers 

Drank  in  the  morning  mist,  dawn's  ten- 
der showers, 

i 


B  Roman's  Xove*2Letter0. 

And  looked  forth  for  the  Day-god  who  had 

blazed 

His  heart  away  and  died  at  sundown.    Far 
In  the  gray  west  faded  a  loitering  star. 

It   seemed   that  I  had  wandered  through 

long  years, 

A  life  of  years,  still  seeking  gropingly 
A  thing  I  dared  not  name  ;  now  I  could 

see 

In  the  still  dawn  a  hope,  in  the  soft  tears 
Of  the  deep-hearted  violets  a  breath 
Of  kinship,  like  the  herald  voice  of  Death. 

Slow  moved  the  morning ;  where  the  hill 

was  bare 

Woke  a  reluctant  breeze.     Dimly  I  knew 
My   Day   was   come.      The   wind-blown 

blossoms  threw 
Their  breath  about  me,  and  the  pine-swept 

air 
Grew  to   a   shape,   a   mighty,   formless 

thing, 
A  phantom  of  the  wood's  imagining. 


TKfloman'0  Xov>e*Xetter0* 


And  as  I  gazed,  spell-bound,  it  seemed  to 

move 

Its  tendril  limbs,  still  swaying  tremulously 

As  if  in  spirit-doubt  ;  then  glad  and  free 

Crystalled    the    being    won    from   waiting 

grove 

Into  a  human  likeness.     There  he  stood, 
The  vine-browed  shape  of  Nature's  mor- 
tal mood. 

"  Now   have  I  found   thee,  Vision  I  have 

sought 
These  years,  unknowing  ;  surely  thou  art 

fair 

And  inly  wise,  and  on  thy  tasselled  hair 
Glows  Heaven's  own  light.     Passion  and 

fame  are  naught 
To   thy  clear   eyes,   O  Prince   of  many 

lands,  — 
Grant  me  thy  joy,"  I  cried,  and  stretched 

my  hands. 

No  answer  but  the  flourish  of  the  breeze 
Through  the  black  pines.     Then,  slowly, 
as  the  wind 

3 


Woman's  3Loves3Letters. 


Parts    the    dense    cloud-forms,    leaving 

naught  behind 
But  shapeless  vapor,  through  the  budding 

trees 
Drifted  some  force  unseen,  and  from  my 

sight 
Faded  my  god  into  the  morning  light. 

Again  alone.     With  wistful,  straining  eyes 
I  waited,  and  the  sunshine  flecked  the  bank 
Happy  with  arbutus  and  violets  where  I 

sank 

Hearing,  near  by,  a  host  of  melodies, 
The  rapture  of  the  woodthrush  ;  soft  her 

mood 

The  love-mate,  with  such  golden  numbers 
woo'd. 

He  ceased  ;  the  fresh  moss-odors  filled  the 

grove 
With  a  strange  sweetness,  the  dark  hem- 

lock boughs 
Moved   soft,  as  though  they  heard  the 

brooklet  rouse 

To  its  spring  soul,  and  whisper  low  of  love. 
4 


Woman's  3Love*2letter0, 


The  white-robed  birches  stood  unbend- 

ingly 
Like  royal  maids,  in  proud  expectancy. 

Athwart  the  ramage  where  the  young  leaves 

press 

It  came  to  me,  ah,  call  it  what  you  will 
Vision  or  waking  dream,  I  see  it  still  ! 
Again  a  form  born  of  the  woodland  stress 
Grew  to  my  gaze,  and  by  some  secret  sign 
Though  shadow-hid,  I  knew  the  form  was 
thine. 

The  glancing  sunlight  made  thy  ruddy  hair 
A  crown  of  gold,  but  on  thy  spirit-face 
There  was  no  smile,  only  a  tender  ^race 
Of  love  half  doubt.     Upon  thy  hand  a  rare 
Wild  bird  of  Paradise  perched  fearlessly 
With  radiant  plumage  and  still,  lustrous 

eye. 

And  as  I  gazed  I  caw  what  I  had  deemed 
A  shadow  near  thy  hand,  a  dusky  wing, 
A  bird  like  last  year's  leaves,  so  dull  a 

thing 

Beside  its  fellow  ;  as  the  sunchine  gleamed 
5 


B  TKHoman's  Xove*Xettcr0. 

Each  breast  showed  letters  bright  as  crys- 
talled rain, 

The  fair  bird  bore  "  Delight,"  the  other 
"  Pain." 

Then  came  thy  voice  :  "  O  Love,  wilt  have 

my  gift  ? " 

I  stretched  my  glad  hands  eagerly  to  grasp 
The    heaven-blown  bird,  gold-hued,  and 

longed  to  clasp 

It  close  and  know  it  mine.     Ere  I  might  lift 
The    shining  thing  and   hold    it  to  my 

breast 
Again  I  heard  thy  voice  with  vague  unrest. 

"  These  are  twin  birds  and  may  not  parted 

be." 

Full  in  thine  eyes  I  gazed,  and  read  therein 
The  paradox  of  life,  of  love,  of  sin, 
As  on  a  nigh':  of  cloud  and  mystery 

One  darling  flash  makes  bright  the  hid- 
den ways, 

And  feet  tread  knowingly  though  thick 
the  haze. 

6 


B  Woman'0  3Lo\>e*3Letter0. 


Thy  gift,  if  so  I  chose, — no  other  hand 

Save  thine. — I  reached  and  gathered  to 
my  heart 

The   quivering,  sentient   things. — Some- 
times I  start 

To  know  them  hidden  there. — If  I  should 
stand 

Idly,  some  day,  and   one, — God  help  me  ! 
— breast 

A  homing  breeze, — my  brown  bird  knows 
its  nest. 


CAM'ST  thou  not  nigh  to  me 
In  that  one  glimpse  of  thee 
When  thy  lips,  tremblingly, 

Said  :  "  My  Beloved." 
'Twas  but  a  moment's  space, 
And  in  that  crowded  place 
I  dared  not  scan  thy  face 

O  !  my  Beloved. 

Yet  there  may  come  a  time 
(Though  loving  be  a  crime 
Only  allowed  in  rhyme 

To  us,  Beloved), 
When  safe  'neath  sheltering  arm 
I  may,  without  alarm, 
Hear  thy  lips,  close  and  warm, 

Murmur  :  "  Beloved  !  " 


I  DO  not  know  if  all  the  fault  be  mine, 
Or  why  I  may  not  think  of  thee  and  be 
At  peace   with   mine   own   heart.     Un- 
ceasingly 
Grim  doubts  beset  me,  bygone   words  of 

thine 

Take  subtle  meaning,  and  I  cannot  rest 
Till  all  my  fears  and  follies  are  confessed. 

Perhaps  the   wild  wind's   questioning  has 

brought 

My  heart  its  melancholy,  for,  alone 
In  the  night  stillness,  I  can  hear  him  moan 
In  sobbing  gusts,  as  though  he  vainly  sought 
Some  bygone   bliss.     Against   the  drip- 
ping pane 

In  storm-blown  torrents  beats  the  driving 
rain. 

9 


Roman's  Xove^etters. 


Nay  I  will  tell  thee  all,  I  will  not  hide 
One  thought  from  thee,  and  if  I  do  thee 

wrong 
So  much  the  more  must  I  be  brave  and 

strong 
To   show   my   fault.      And   if   thou    then 

shouldst  chide 

I  will  accept  reproof  most  willingly 
So  it  but  bringeth  peace  to  thee  and  me. 

I  dread  thy  past.  Phantoms  of  other  days 
Pursue  my  vision.  There  are  other  hands 
Which  thou  hast  held,  perchance  some 

slender  bands 

That  draw  thee  still  to  other  woodland  ways 
Than  those  which  zve  have  known,  some 

blissful  hours 

I  do  not  share,  of  love,  and  June,  and 
flowers. 

I  dread  her  most,  that  woman  whom  thou 

knewest 

Those  years  ago, — I  cannot  bear  to  think 
That  she  can  say :  "  My  lover  praised  the 
pink 

10 


Woman's  3Love*Xetteta, 


Of  palm,  or  ear,"  "  The  violets  were  bluest 
In  that  dear  copse,"  and  dream  of  some 

fair  day 

When  thou  didst  while  her  summer  hours 
away. 

I  dread  them  too,  those  light  loves  and 

desires 

That  lie  in  the  dim  shadow  of  the  years  ; 

I  fain  would  cheat  myself  of  all  my  fears 

And,  as  a  child  watching  warm  winter  fires, 

Dream  not  of  yesterday's  black  embers, 

nor 

To-morrow's  ashes  that  may  strew  the 
floor. 

I  did  not  dream  of  this  while  thou  wert  near, 
But  now  the  thought  that  haunts  me  day 

by  day 

Is  that  the  things  I  love,  the  tender  way 
Of  mastery,  the  kisses  that  are  dear 

As  Heaven's  best  gifts,  to  other  lips  and 

arms 

Owe  half  their  blessedness  and  all  their 
charms. 

II 


TKHoman'e  Xovc*3Lettcrs» 


Tell  me  that  I  am  wrong,  O  !  Man  of  men, 
Surely  it  is  not  hard  to  comfort  me, 
Laugh  at  my  fears  with  dear  persistency, 

Nay,  if  thou  must,  lie  to  me  !  There,  again, 
I  hear  the  rain,  and  the  wind's  wailing  cry 
Stirs  with  wild  life  the  night's  monotony. 


IF  I  had  known 
That  when  the  morrow  dawned  the  roses 

would  be  dead 

I  would  have  filled  my  hands  with  blossoms 
white  and  red. 

If  I  had  known  ! 

If  I  had  known 
That  I  should  be  to-day  deaf  to  all  happy 

birds 

I  would  have  lain  for  hours  to  listen  to  your 
words. 

If  I  had  known  ! 

If  I  had  known 
That  with  the  morning  light  you  would  be 

gone  for  aye 

I  would  have  been  more  kind  ; — sweet  Love 
had  won  his  way 

If  I  had  known. 


Jtntiription. 

LET  us  peer  forward  through  the  dusk  of 
years 

And  force  the  silent  future  to  reveal 

Her  store  of  garnered  joys  ;  we  may  not 

kneel 
For  ever,  and  entreat  our  bliss  with  tears. 

Somewhere  on  this  drear  earth  the  sun- 
shine lies, 

Somewhere   the    air   breathes    Heaven- 
blown  harmonies. 

Some  day  when  you  and  I  have  fully  learned 
Our  waiting-lesson,  wondering,  hand  in 

hand 

We  shall  gaze  out  upon  an  unknown  land, 
Our  thoughts  and  our  desires  forever  turned 
From  our  old  griefs,  as  swallows,  home- 
warding, 

Sweep  ever   southward  with    unwearied 
wing. 

14 


21  Woman's  3Lo\>e*5Lettcr0. 

We  shall  fare  forth,  comrades  for  evermore. 
Though  the  ill-omened  bird  Time  loves 

to  bear 

Has  brushed  this  cheek  and  left  an  im- 
press there 

I  shall  be  fierce  and  dauntless  as  of  yore, 
Free  as  a  bird  o'er  the  wide  world  to  rove, 
And  strong  and  fearless,  O  my  Love,  to 
love. 

What  have  we  now  ?    The  haunting,  vague 

unrest 

Of  incompleted  measures  ;  and  we  dream 
Vainly,  of  the  Musician  and  His  theme, 
How  the  great  Master  in  a  day  most  blest 
Shall  strike  some  mighty  chords  in  har- 
mony, 
And  make  an  end,  and  set  the  music  free  ! 

We  snatch  from  Fate  our  moments  of  delight, 
Few  as,  in  April  hours,  the  wooing  calls 
Of  orioles,  or  when  the  twilight  falls 

First  o'er   the   forest  ere  the  approach  of 
night 


Woman's  !Love*%etter0. 


The  eyes  of  evening  ;  —  and  Love's  song 

is  sung 
But  once,  Dear  Heart,  but  once,  and  we 

are  young. 

Over  the  seas  together,  you  and  I, 

'Neath  blue  Italian  skies,  or  on  the  hills 
Of  storied  Greece,  —  where  the  warm  sun- 

light fills 
Spain's  mellow  vineyards,  —  wandering  rev- 

erently 
O'er  the  green  plains  of  Palestine,  —  our 

days 
A  golden  holiday  in  Old  World  ways. 

Yet  would  we  linger  not  by  southern  shores  ; 
The  bracing  breath  of  Scandinavian  snows 
Would  draw  us  from  our  dreams.  The 

North  wind  blows 
Upon   thy  cheek,  my  Norseman,  and   the 

roars 

Of  the  wild  Baltic  sound  within  my  ears 
When  to  my  dreams  thy  stalwart  form 
appears. 

16 


Woman's  Xove  betters. 


This  will  the  future  bring.     See!  Thou  hast 

given 
From  out  the  fulness  of  thy  strength  and 

will 
This  courage  to  me.     Though  the  rugged 

hill 
Looms  high,  and  fronts  our  vision,  yet  our 

heaven 

(I  see  it  when  I  sleep)  with  portals  wide 
And  shining  towers,  gleams  on  the  far- 

ther side. 


"  TSHIRR  !  "  scolds  the  oriole 

Where  the  elms  stir, 
Flaunting  her  gourd-like  nest 
On  the  tree's  swaying  crest : 
"  May's  here,  I  cannot  rest, 

Go  away,  tshirr  !  " 

"  Tshirr !  "  scolds  the  oriole 

Where  the  leaves  blur, 
Giving  her  threads  a  jerk, 
Spying  where  rivals  lurk, 
"  May's  here,  and  I'm  at  work 
Go  away,  tshirr !  " 


18 


SPRING'S  face  is  wreathed  in  smiles.     She 

had  been  driven 

Hither  and  thither  at  the  surly  will 
Of  treacherous  winds  till  her  sweet  heart 

was  chill. 

Into  her  grasp  the  sceptre  has  been  given 
And  now  she  touches  with  a  proud  young 

hand 
The  earth,  and  turns  to  blossoms  all  the 

land. 

We   catch  the  smile,  the   joyousness,   the 

pride, 
And  share  them  with  her.     Surely  winter 

gloom 
Is    for    the    old,    and   frost    is   for    the 

tomb. 

Youth  must  have  pleasure,  and  the   tremu- 
lous tide 

'9 


lidoman'0  Xove*Xetter0* 


Of  sun-kissed  waves,  and  all  the  golden 

fire 
Of  Summer's  noontide  splendor  of  desire. 

I  have  forgotten,  —  for  the  breath  of  buds 
Is  on  my  temples,  if  in  former  days 
I  have  known  sorrow  ;  I  remember  praise, 
And  calm  content,  and  joy's  great  ocean- 

floods, 
And  many  dreams  so  sweet  that,  in  their 

place, 

We  would  not  welcome  even  Truth's  fair 
face. 

O  Man  to  whom  my  heart  hast  leaned,  dost 

know 
Aught  of  my  life  ?     Sometimes  a  strong 

despair 

Enters  my  soul  and  finds  a  lodging  there  ; 
Thou  dost  not  know  me,  and  the  years  will 

go 

As  these  last  months  have  gone,  and  I 
shall  be 

Still  far,  still  a  strange  woman  unto  thee. 
20 


B  Woman's  3Lov>e*£etter0. 

I  do  not  blame  thee.     If  there  is  a  fault 
Let  it  be  mine,  for  surely  had  I  tried 
The  door  of  my  heart's  home  to  open  wide 
No  need  had  been  for  even  Love's  assault. 
And  yetj  methinks,  somewhere  there  is  a 

key 

Thou  mightest  have  found,  and  entered 
happily. 

I  am  no  saint  niched  in  a  hallowed  wall 
For  men  to  worship,  but  I  would  compel 
A  level  gaze.    You  teachers  who  would 

tell 
A  woman's  place  I  do  defy  you  all ! 

While  justice  lives,  and  love  with  joy  is 

crowned 

Woman  and  man  must  meet  on  equal 
ground. 

The  deepest  wrong  is  falsehood.     She  who 

sells 

Her  soul  and  body  for  a  little  gain 
In  ease,  or  the  world's  notice,  has  a  stain 

Upon  her  soul  no  lighter  for  the  bells 

21 


a  Tjdoman's 


Of  marriage  rites,  and  purer  far  is  she 
\\~ho  gives  her  all  for  love's  sad  ecstasy. 

Canst  thou  not  understand  a  nature  strong 
And  passionate,  with  impulses  that  sway, 
With  yearning  tenderness  that  must  have 

•Xj, 

Yet  knows  no  ill  desire,  no  touch  of  wrong  ? 
If  thou  canst  not  then  in  God's  name  I 

pray 
See  me  no  more  forever  from  this  day. 


22 


THE  night  is  long 

And  there  are  no  stars, — 
Let  me  but  dream 
That  the  long  fields  gleam 
With  sunlight  and  song, 
Then  I  shall  not  long 
For  the  light  of  stars. 

Let  me  but  dream, — 
For  there  are  no  stars, — 
Dream  that  the  ache 
And  the  wild  heart-break 
Are  but  things  that  seem. 
Ah  !  let  me  dream 

For  there  are  no  stars. 


I  SEE  the  starting  buds,  I  catch  the  gleam 
In  the  near  distance  of  a  sun-kissed  pool, 
The  blessed  April  air  blows  soft  and  cool, 

Small  wonder  if  all  sorrow  grows  a  dream, 
And  we  forget  that  close  around  us  lie 
A  city's  poor,  a  city's  misery. 

Of  every  outward  vision  there  is  some 
Internal  counterpart.     To-day  I  know 
The  blessedness  of  living,  and  the  glow 
Of  life's  dear  spring- tide.     I  can  bid  thee 

come 
In  thought  and  wander  where  the  fields 

are  fair 
With  bursting  life,  and  I,  rejoicing,  there. 

Yet  have  I  passed,  Beloved,  through  the  vale 
Of  dark  dismay,  and  felt  the  dews  of  death 
Upon  my  brow,  have  measured  out  my 
breath 

24 


Roman's  Xove^Xetters. 


Counting  my  hours  of  joy,  as  misers  quail 
At  every  footfall  in  the  quiet  night 
And  clutch  their  gold  and  count  it  in  af- 
fright. 

I  learned  new  lessons  in  that  school  of  fear, 
Life  took  a  fresh  perspective  ;  sad  and 

brave 
The  view  is  from  the  threshold  of  the 

grave. 
In  that  long,  backward  glance  I  saw  her 

clear 
From  fogs  of  gathering  night,  and  all  the 

show 

Of  small  things  that  seemed  great  a  while 
ago. 

Our  dreams  of  fame,  the  stubborn  power 

we  call 
Our  self-respect,  our   hopes  of    worldly 

good, 

Our  jealousies  and  fears,  how  in  the  flood 
Of   this   new   light   they  faded,  poor  and 
small ; 

25 


Idoman's 


Showing  our  pettiness  beside  God's  truth, 
Besides    His   age   our   poor,    unlearned 
youth. 

The  earth  yearns  forth,  impatient  for  the 

days 

Of  its  maturity,  the  ample  sweets 
Of  Summer's  fulness  ;  and  its  great  heart 

beats 

With  a  fierce  restlessness,  for  Spring  delays 
Seeing  her  giddy  reign  end  all  too  soon, 
Her  bud-crown  ravished  by  the  hand  of 
June. 

And  I,  —  I  shall  be  happy,  —  promise  me 
This  one  small  thing,  Beloved,  for  I  long 
For  happiness  as  the  caged  bird  for  song. 
Not  where  four  walls  close  in  the  melody 
I  want  the  fresh,  sweet  air,  the  water's 

gush, 

The  strong,  sane  life  with  thee,  the  sum 
mer  hush. 


26 


Statg  of 


IN  the  east  a  lightening  ; 
Where  the  woods  are  chill 
Moves  an  unseen  finger, 
Wakes  a  sudden  thrill  ; 

In  my  soul  a  glimmer, 
Hush  !  no  words  are  heard  ! 
In  heart-ambush  hidden 
Chirrup  of  a  bird  ; 

Tremble  heart  and  forest 
Like  a  frightened  fawn, 
Gleam  the  distant  tree-tops, 
Hither  comes  the  dawn  ! 


27 


Witmnm 

THIS  April  sun  has  wakened  into  cheer 
The  wintry  paths  of  thought,  and  tinged 

with  gold 
These  threadbare  leaves  of  fancy  brown 

and  old. 

This  is  for  us  the  wakening  of  the  year 
And  May's  sweet  breath  will  draw  the 

waiting  soul 
To  where  in  distance  lies  the  longed-for 

goal. 

The  summer  life  will  still  all  questioning, 
The  leaves  will  whisper  peace,  and  calm 

will  be 

The  wild,  vast,  blue,  illimitable  sea. 
And  we  shall  hush  our  murmurings,  and 

bring 

To  Nature,  green  below  and  blue  above, 
A  whole  life's  worshipping,  a  whole  life's 
love. 

28 


Roman's  Zove*Xetters. 


We  will  not  speak  of  sometime  fretting  fears, 
We  will  not  think  of  aught  that  may  arise 
In  future  hours  to  cloud  our  golden 

skies. 
Some  souls  there  are  who  love  their  woes 

and  tears, 

Gaining  their  joy  by  contrast,  but  for  thee 
And  me,  Beloved,  peace  is  ecstasy. 

It  was  not  always  so,  there  was  a  time 
WThen  I  would  choose  the  rocky  mountain 

way, 
And  climb  the  hills  of  doubt  to  find  the 

day. 
Fresh  effort  brought  fresh  zest,  and  winter's 

rime 
Chilled  not  but  crowned  endeavor,  and 

the  heat 
Of  summer  thrilled,  and  made  the  pulses 

beat. 

But  now  I  am  so  weary  that  I  turn 

From   labor  with  a  shudder,  and  from 
pain 

29 


Woman's  Xox>e*£etters. 


As  from  an  enemy  ;  I  see  no  gain 
In  suffering,  and  cleansing  fires  must  burn 
As  keenly  as  desire,  so  let  me  know 
Quiet  with  thee,  and  twilight's  afterglow. 

I,  who  have  boasted  of  my  strength  and  will, 
And  ventured   daring  flights,  and   stood 

alone 
In   fearless,    flushed    defiance,    I    have 

grown 

Humble,  and  seek  another  hand  to  fill 
Life's  cup,  and  other  eyes  to  pierce  the 

skies 
Of  Wisdom's  dear,  sad,  mighty  mysteries. 

Ah  !  I  will  lie  so  quiet  in  thine  arms 

I  will  not  stir  thee  ;  and  thy  whisperings 
Shall  teach  me  patience,  and  so  many 

things 

I  have  not  learned  as  yet.     And  all  alarms 
Will  melt  in  peace  when,  safe  from   tem- 

pest's rage 

My  wind-tossed  ship  has  found  its  anchor- 
age. 

30 


of 


The  world  may  rage  without, 

Quiet  is  here ; 
Statesmen  may  toil  and  shout, 

Cynics  may  sneer ; 
The  great  world — let  it  go — 
June  warmth  be  March's  snow, 
I  care  not — be  it  so 

Since  I  am  here. 

Time  was  when  war's  alarm 

Called  for  a  fear, 
When  sorrow's  seeming  harm 

Hastened  a  tear ; 
Naught  care  I  now  what  foe 
Threatens,  for  scarce  I  know 
How  the  year's  seasons  go 
Since  I  am  here. 


THHoman'0  3Loye*;tetter0. 


This  is  my  resting-place 

Holy  and  dear, 
Where  Pain's  dejected  face 

May  not  appear. 
This  is  the  world  to  me, 
Earth's  woes  I  will  not  see 
But  rest  contentedly 

Since  I  am  here. 

Is't  your  voice  chiding,  Love, 
My  mild  career  ? 

My  meek  abiding,  Love, 
Daily  so  near  ? 

"  Danger  and  loss  "  to  me  ? 

Ah,  Sweet,  I  fear  to  see 

No  loss  but  loss  of  Thee 
And  I  am  here. 


IF  days  should  pass  without  a  written  word 
To  tell  me  of  thy  welfare,  and  if  days 
Should  lengthen  out  to  weeks,  until  the 

maze 
Of  questioning  fears  confused  me,  and  I 

heard 
Life-sounds  as   echoes ;  and  one   came 

and  said 
After  these  weeks  of  waiting  :     "  He  is 

dead ! " 

Though  the  quick   sword  had  found   the 

vital  part, 
And  the  life-blood  must  mingle  with  the 

tears, 

I  think  that,  as  the  dying  soldier  hears 
The  cries  of  victory,  and  feels  his  heart 
33 


tKaoman'0  1Love*Xettet0. 


Surge  with  his  country's  triumph-hour,  I 

could 
Hope  bravely  on,  and  feel  that  God  was 

good. 

I  could  take  up  my  thread  of  life  again 
And  weave  my  pattern  though  the  colors 

were 
Faded  forever.      Though   I   might   not 

dare 
Dream  often  of  thee,  I  should  know  that 

when 
Death  came  to  thee  upon  thy  lips  my 

name 
Lingered,  and  lingers  ever  without  blame. 

Aye,   lingers  ever.     Though   we   may  not 

know 
Much  that  our  spirits   crave,  yet   is  it 

given 

To  us  to  feel  that  in  the  waiting  Heaven 
Great  souls  are  greater,  and  if  God  bestow 
A  mighty  love  He  will  not  let  it  die 
Through  the  vast  ages  of  eternity. 
34 


Roman's  Xove*3Letter0» 


But    if    some   day   the    bitter    knowledge 

swept 
Down  on  my  life,  —  bearing  my  treasured 

freight 
To  founder  on  the  shoals  of  scorn,  —  what 

Fate 

Smiling  with  awful  irony  had  kept 
Till  life  grew  sweeter,  —  that  my  god  was 

clay, 
That  'neath  thy  strength  a  lurking  weak- 

ness lay  ; 


That  thou,  whom  I  had  deemed  a  man  of 

men 
Faulty,  as  great  men  are,  but  with   no 

taint 
Of  baseness, — with  those  faults  that  shew 

the  saint 

Of  after  days,  perhaps, — wert  even  then 
When  first  I  loved  thee  but  a  spreading 

tree 

Whose  leaves  shewed  not  its  roots'  de- 
formity ; 

35 


21  Woman's  Xove*3Letter0. 

I  should  not  weep,  for  there  are  wounds 
that  lie 

Too  deep  for  tears, — and  Death  is  but  a 
friend 

Who  loves  too  dearly,  and  the  parting  end 
Of  Love's  joy-day  a  paltry  pain,  a  cry 

To  God,  then  peace, — beside  the  tortur- 
ing grief 

When  honor  dies,  and  trust,  and  soul's 
belief. 

Travellers  have  told  that  in  the  Java  isles 
The  upas-tree  breathes  its  dread  vapor  out 
Into  the  air  ;  there  needs  no  hand  about 

Its  branches  for  the  poison's  deadly  wiles 
To  work  a  strong  man's  hurt,  for  there 

is  death 
Envenomed,  noisome,  in  his  every  breath. 

So  would  I  breathe  thy  poison  in  my  soul, 
Till  all  that  had  been  wholesome,  pure, 

and  true 

Shewed  its  decay,  and  stained  and 
wasted  grew. 

36 


B  TKHoman'0  3Love*3Letter0. 

Though  sundered  as  the  distant  Northern 

Pole 
From  his  far  sister,  I  should  bear  thy 

blight 
Upon  me  as  I  passed  into  the  night. 

Didst  dream  thy  truth  and  honor  meant  so 

much 
To  me,  Dear  Heart  ?    Oh  !  I  am  full  of 

tears 
To-night,  of    longing   love   and   foolish 

fears. 
Would  I  might  see  thee,  know  thy  tender 

touch, 
For  Time  is  long,  and  though  I  may  not 

will 
To  question  Fate,  I  am  a  woman  still. 


37 


#mg 


CLEAR  sounds  the  call  on  high  : 
"  To  arms  and  victory  !  " 
Brave  hearts  that  win  or  die, 

Dying,  may  \vin  5 
Proudly  the  banners  wave, 
What  though  the  goal's  the  grave  ? 
Death  cannot  harm  the  brave,  — 

Through  death  they  win. 

Softly  the  evening  hush 
Stilling  strife's  maddened  rush 
Cools  the  fierce  battle  flush,— 

See  the  day  die  ; 
A  thousand  faces  white 
Mirror  the  cold  moonlight 
And  glassy  eyes  are  bright 

With  Victory. 
38 


I  HAVE  been  wandering  where  the  daisies 

grow, 
Great  fields  of  tall,  white  daisies,  and  I 

saw 

Them  bend  reluctantly,  and  seem  to  draw 
Away  in  pride  when  the  fresh  breeze  would 

blow 

From  timothy  and  yellow  buttercup, 
So  by  their  fearless  beauty  lifted  up. 

Yet  must  they  bend  at  the  strong  breeze's 

will, 
Bright,  flawless  things,  whether  in  wrath 

he  sweep 

Or,  as  oftimes,  in  mood  caressing,  creep 
Over  the  meadows  and  adown  the  hill. 
So  Love  in  sport  or  truth,  as  Fates  allow, 
Blows  over  proud  young  hearts  and  bids 
them  bow. 

39 


Roman's  3Love=3Letter0» 


So  beautiful  is  it  to  live,  so  sweet 
To  hear  the  ripple  of  the  bobolink, 
To  smell  the  clover  blossoms  white  and 

pink, 

To  feel  oneself  far  from  the  dusty  street, 
From  dusty  souls,  from  all  the  flare  and 

fret 
Of  living,  and  the  fever  of  regret. 

I  have  grown  younger  ;  I  can  scarce  believe 
It  is  the  same  sad  woman  full  of  dreams 
Of  seven  short  weeks  ago,  for  now  it 

seems 
I  am  a  child  again,  and  can  deceive 

My  soul  with  daisies,   plucking  one  by 

one 
The  petals  dazzling  in  the  noonday  sun. 

Almost  with  old-time  eagerness  I  try 

My  fate,   and   say  :    "un   peu,"    a   soft 

"  beaucoup," 
Then,    lower,    "  passionement,    pas    du 

tout  ;  " 

Quick  the  white  petals  fall,  and  lovingly 

40 


B  Roman's  !Love*Xctter0. 

I  pluck  the  last,  and  drop  with  tender 

touch 
The    knowing   daisy,   for   he    loves   me 

"  much." 

I  can  remember  how,  in  childish  days, 

I  deemed  that  he  who  held  my  heart  in 
thrall 

Must  love  me  "  passionately  "  or  "  not  at 

all." 
Poor  little  wilful  ignorant  heart  that  prays 

It  knows  not  what,  and  heedlessly  de- 
mands 

The   best   that   life    can  give  with   out- 
stretched hands ! 

Now  I  am  wiser,  and  have  learned  to  prize 
Peace  above  passion,  and  the  summer  life 
Here  with  the  flowers  above  the  cease- 
less strife 

Of  armed  ambitions.     They  alone  are  wise 
Who  know  the  daisy-secrets,  and  can  hold 
Fast  in  their  eager  hands  her  heart  of 
gold. 

41 


A  DASH  of  spray, 
A  weed-browned  way, — 
My  ship's  in  the  bay, 
In  the  glad  blue  bay, — 
The  wind's  from  the  west 
And  the  waves  have  a  crest, 
But  my  bird's  in  the  nest 
And  my  ship's  in  the  bay  ! 

At  dawn  to  stand 
Soft  hand  to  hand, 
Bare  feet  on  the  sand, — 
On  the  hard  brown  sand, — 
To  wait,  dew-crowned, 
For  the  tarrying  sound 
Of  a  keel  that  will  ground 
On  the  scraping  sand. 
42 


. 

Woman's  3Love*3Letters, 


A  glad  surprise 
In  the  wind-swept  skies 
Of  my  wee  one's  eyes, — 
Those  wondering  eyes. 
He  will  come,  my  sweet, 
And  will  haste  to  meet 
Those  hurrying  feet 
And  those  sea-blue  eyes. 

I  know  the  day 

Must  weary  away, 

And  my  ship's  in  the  bay, — 

In  the  clear,  blue  bay, — 

Ah  !  there's  wind  in  the  west, 

For  the  waves  have  a  crest, 

But  my  bird's  in  the  nest 

And  my  ship's  in  the  bay ! 


(Swtitude 

THERE  are  some  things,  dear  Friend,  are 

easier  far 

To  say  in  written  words  than  when  we  sit 
Eye  answering  eye,  or  hand  to  hand  close 

knit. 

Not  that  there  is  between  us  any  bar 
Of  shyness  or  reserve  ;  the  day  is  past 
For  that,  and  utter  trust  has  come  at  last. 

Only,  when  shut  alone  and  safe  inside 
These    four    white    walls, — hearing    no 

sound  except 
Our   own   heart-beatings,    silences   have 

crept 

Stealthily  round  us, — as  the  incoming  tide 
Quiet  and  unperceived  creeps  ever  on 
Till  mound  and  pebble,  rock  and  reef  are 
gone. 

44 


"Woman's  3Lox>e*1Letters. 


Or  out  on  the  green  hillside,  even  there 
There     is    a     hush,     and    words     and 

thoughts  are  still. 

For  the  trees  speak,  and  myriad  voices  fill 
With  wondrous  echoes  all  the  waiting  air. 
We  listen,  and  in  listening  must  forget 
Our  own  hearts'  murmur,  and  our  spirits* 
fret; 

Even  our  joys,  —  thou  knowest  ;  —  when  the 

air 

Is  full  to  overflowing  with  the  sense 
Of  hope    fulfilled    and   passion's   vehe- 

mence 

There  is  no  place  for  words  ;  we  do  not  dare 
To  break  Love's   stillness,  even  though 

the  power 
Were  ours  by  speech  to  lengthen  out  the 

hour. 

But  here  in  quietness  I  can  recall 

All  I  would  tell  thee,  how  thou  art  to  me 
Impulse  and  inspiration,  and  with  thee 

I  can  but  smile  though  all  my  idols  fall. 
45 


Moman's  Xove*Xetters. 


I   wait  my  meed  as   others   who    have 

known 
Patience  till  to  their  utmost  stature  grown. 

As  when  the  heavens  are  draped  in  gloomy 

gray 
And  earth  is  tremulous  with  a  vague  un- 

rest 

A  glory  fills  the  tender,  troubled  West 
That  glads  the  closing  of  November's  day, 
So  breaks  in    sun-smiles  my  beclouded 

sky 
When  day  is  over  and  I  know  thee  nigh. 

Thou   art   so   much,  all  this  and  more,  to 

me, 

And  what  am  I  to  thee  ?     Can  I  repay 
These  many  gifts  ?      Is  there  no  royal 

way 

Of  recompense,  so  I  may  proudly  see 
The  man  my  heart  delights  to  praise  re- 

nowned 
For  wealth  and  honor,  and  with  rapture 

crowned  ? 

46 


Woman's 


Ah  !  though  there  is  no  recompense  in  love 
Yet  have  I  paid  thee,  given  these  gifts  to 

thee, 
Joy,  riches,  worship.     Thou  hast  joy  in 

me, 

Is  it  not  so,  Beloved  ?     Who  shall  prove 
No  worship  of  thee  by  my  soul  confessed  ? 
And  riches  ?    Ah  !   a  wealth  of  love  is 
best. 


47 


I  HAVE  known  a  thousand  pleasures, — 

Love  is  best — 
Ocean's  songs  and  forest  treasures, 

Work  and  rest, 

Jewelled  joys  of  dear  existence, 
Triumph  over  Fate's  resistance, 
But  to  prove,  through  Time's  wide  distance, 

Love  is  best. 


I  STOOD  upon  a  hill,  and  watched  the  death 
Of  the    day's    turmoil.     Still  the    glory 

spread 
Cloud-top  to  cloud-top,  and  each  rearing 

head 

Trembled  to  crimson.     So  a  mighty  breath 
From  some  wild  Titan  in  a  rising  ire 
Might  kindle  flame  in  voicing  his  desire. 

Soft   stirred   the    evening    air ;    the    pine- 
crowned  hills 
Glowed  in  an  answering  rapture  where 

the  flush 
Grew  to    a  blood-drop,  and  the  vesper 

hush 

Moved  in  my  soul,  while  from  my  life  all  ills 
Faded  and  passed  away.      God's  voice 

was  there 

And  in  my  heart  the  silence  was  a  prayer. 
49 


TlCloman'0  Xox>e*£etter0. 


There  was  a  day  when  to  my  fearfulness 
Was  born  a  joy,  when  doubt  was  swept 

afar 

A  shadow  and  a  memory,  and  a  star 
Gleamed  in  my  sky  more  bright  for  the  dis- 

tress. 
The  stillness  breathed  thanksgiving,  and 

the  air 
Wafted,    methought,    the    incense  of   a 

prayer. 

Heaven  sets  no  bounds  of  bead-roll  or  ap- 

peal ; 
And  when  the  fiery  heart  with  mute  em- 

brace 
Bends,  tremblingly,  but  for  a  moment's 

space 
It  needs  no  words  that  cry,  no  limbs  that 

kneel. 

As  meteors  flash,  so,  in  a  moment's  light, 
Life,  darting  forth,  touches  the  Infinite. 

All  my  prayers  wordless  ?     Nay,  I  can  recall 
A  night  not  so  long  past  but  that  each 
thought 

5° 


B  Woman's  Xove^Xettets. 

Lives  at  this  hour,  and  throbs  again  un- 
sought 

When    Silence  broods,   and    Night's    chill 
shadows  fall ; 

Then  Darkness'  thousand  pulses  thrilled 
and  stirred 

With  the  dear  grace  of  a    remembered 
word  ; 

And  I  was  still,  thy  voice  enshrouding  me. 
Like  the  strong  sweep  of   ocean-breath 

the  power 
Of  one  resistless  thought  transformed  my 

hour 

Of  love-dreams  to  a  fear.     All  hopelessly 
I  knew  love's  impotence,  and  my  despair 
Stretched  soul-hands  forth,  and  quivered 
to  a  prayer. 

My  passionate  heart  cried  out :  "  If  his  dear 

life 
Through  stress  of  keen  temptation  merits 

aught 

Of  penance  or  requital,  be  it  wrought 
Upon  my  life.     If  only  through  the  strife 
51 


21  Woman'0  Zove*£etter0. 

Is  won  the  peace,  through  drudgery  the 

gain, 
Give  him  the  issue,  and  to  me  the  pain  ! " 

Some  day,  in  our  soul's  course  o'er  trackless 

lands, 
Swayed  oft  by  adverse  winds,  or  swept 

along 
In  Fate's  wild  current  with  the  fluttering 

throng 
Towards  Sin's  engulfing  maelstrom,  spirit 

hands 
Will   brace    our    trembling    wings,   and 

through  the  night 

Point  and  upbear  in  our  last  trembling 
flight. 


RED  gleams  the  mountain  ridge, 
Slow  the  stream  creeps 

Under  the  old  bent  bridge, 
And  labor  sleeps. 

There  are  no  restless  birds, 

No  leaves  that  stir, 
Dusk  her  gray  mantle  girds, 

Night's  harbinger. 

The  storm-soul's  change  and  start 

Pause,  lull,  and  cease  ; 
In  my  unquiet  heart 

Is  born  a  peace. 


S3 


DEAR,  I  am  lonely,  for  the  bay  is  still 
As  any    hill-girt  lake  ;    the  long  brown 

beach 
Lies  bare  and  wet.     As  far  as  eye  can 

reach 

There  is  no  motion.     Even  on  the  hill 
Where  the  breeze  loves  to  wander  I  can 

see 
No  stir  of  leaves,  nor  any  waving  tree. 

There  is  a  great  red  cliff  that  fronts  my 

view 

A  bare,  unsightly  thing ;  it  angers  me 
With  its  unswerving  grim  monotony. 
The  mackerel  weir,  with  branching  boughs 

askew 
Stands  like  a  fire-swept  forest,  while  the 

sea 

Laps  it,  with  soothing  sighs,  continually. 
54 


TKHoman'0  Xove=*£etter0. 


There  are  no  tempests  in  this  sheltered  bay, 
The  stillness  frets  me,  and  I  long  to  be 
Where  winds  sweep  strong  and  blow  tem- 

pestuously, 

To  stand  upon  some  hill-top  far  away 
And  face  a  gathering  gale,  and  let  the 

stress 
Of  Nature's  mood  subdue  my  restlessness. 

An  impulse  seizes  me,  a  mad  desire 
To  tear  away  that  red-browed  cliff,    to 

sweep 

Its  crest  of  trees  and  huts  into  the  deep  ; 
To  force  a  gap  by  axe,  or  storm,  or  fire, 
And  let  rush  in  with  motion  glad  and  free 
The  rolling  waves  of  the  wild  wondrous 
sea. 

Sometimes  I  wonder  if  I  am  the  child 
Of  calm,  law-loving  parents,  or  a  stray 
From  some  wild  gypsy  camp.     I  cannot 

stay 

Quiet  among  my  fellows  ;  when  this  wild 
Longing  for  freedom  takes  me  I  must  fly 
To  my  dear  woods  and  know  my  liberty. 
55 


TlEloman'a  love*%etters. 


It  is  this  cringing  to  a  social  law 

That  I  despise,  these  changing,  senseless 

forms 

Of  fashion  !     And  until  a  thousand  storms 
Of  God's  impatience  shall  reveal  the  flaw 
In  man's  pet  system,  he  will  weave  the 

spell 

About  his  heart  and  dream  that  all  is 
well. 

Ah  !     Life  is  hard,  Dear  Heart,  for  I  am 

left 

To  battle  with  my  old-time  fears  alone 
I  must  live  calmly  on,  and  make  no  moan 
Though  of  my  hoped-for  happiness  bereft. 
Thou  wilt  not  come,  and  still  the  red  cliff 

lies 
Hiding  my  ocean  from  these  longing  eyes. 


IT  sings  to  me,  it  sings  to  me, 

The  shore-blown  voice  of  the  blithesome 

sea! 

Of  its  world  of  gladness  all  untold, 
Of  its  heart  of  green,  and  its  mines  of  gold, 

And  desires  that  leap  and  flee. 

It  moans  to  me,  it  moans  to  me ! 

The  storm-stirred  voice  of  the  restive  sea ! 
Of  the  vain  dismay  and  the  yearning  pain 
For  hopes  that  will  never  be  born  again 

From  the  womb  of  the  wavering  sea. 

It  calls  to  me,  it  calls  to  me, 
The  luring  voice  of  the  rebel  sea  ! 

And  I  long  with  a  love  that  is  born  of 

tears 
For  the  wild  fresh  life,  and  the  glorying 

fears, 

For  the  quest  and  the  mystery. 
57 


Woman's  3Love*Xetter0. 


It  wails  to  me,  it  wails  to  me, 
Of  the  deep  dark  graves  in  the  yawning  sea  ; 
And  I  hear  the  voice  of  a  boy  that  is 

gone. 

But  the  lad  sleeps  sound  till  the  judg- 
ment-dawn 
in  the  heart  of  the  wind-swept  sea. 


SINCE  first  I  met  thee,  Dear,  and  long  before 
I  knew  myself  beloved,  save  by  the  sense 
All  women  have,  a  shadowy  confidence 
Half-fear,  that  feels  its  bliss  nor  asks  for 

more, 
I  have  learned  new  desires,  known  Love's 

distress 
Sounded  the  deepest  depths  of  loneliness. 

I  was  a  child  at  heart,  and  lived  alone, 
Dreaming  my  dreams,  as  children  may, 

at  whiles, 
Between  their  hours  of  play,  and  Earth's 

broad  smiles 
Allured  my  heart,  and  ocean's  marvellous 

tone 
Woke  no  strange  echoes,  and  the  woods' 

complain 

Made  chants  sonorous,  stirred  no  thoughts 
of  pain. 

59 


21  Roman's  Xove*Xetter0. 

And  if,  sometimes,  dear  Nature  spoke  to 

me 
In  tones  mysterious,  I  had   learned  so 

much 

Dwelling  beside  her  daily,  that  her  touch 
Made  me  discerning.     Though  I  might  not 

see 

Her  purpose  nor  her  meaning,  I  had  part 
In  the  proud  throbbing  of  that  mighty 

heart. 

But  now  the  earth  has  put  a  tiring-cloth 
About  her  face  ;  even  in  the  mountains' 

cheer 

There  is  a  lack,  and  in  the  sea  a  fear, 
The  glacl,  rash  sea,  whose  every  mood,  if 

wroth 

Or  soothing  mild,  is  dear  to  me  as  are 
Joy's  new-born  kisses  on  the  lips  of  Care. 

Since  I  have  known  thee,  Dear,  all  life  has 

grown 

An  expectation.     As  the  swelling  grain 
Trembles  to  harvesting,  and  earth  in  pain 

Travails  till  Spring  is  born,  so  felt  alone 
60 


a  iuaoman'0  Uove^&etters. 

Is  the  dumb  reaching  out  of  things  un- 
born, 

The  night's  gray  promise  of  the  amber 
morn. 

I  long  to  taste  my  pleasures  through  thy 

lips, 
To  sail  with  thee  o'er  foaming  waves  and 

feel 

Our  spirits  rise  together  with  the  reel 
Of  waters  and  the  wavering  land's  eclipse  ; 
To  see  thy  fair  hair  damp  with  salt  sea- 
spray 
And  in  thine  eyes  the  wildness  of  the  way. 

I  long  to  share  my  woods  with  thee,  to  fly 
To  some  black-hearted  forest  where  the 

trail 

Of  mortals  lingers  not, — to  hear  the  gale 

Sweep  round  us  with  a  shuddering  ecstasy, 

To  feel,  night's  tumult  passed,  the  cool 

soft  hand 
Of  the  untroubled  dawn  move  o'er  the 

land. 

61 


B  TKHoman'0  Xo\>e==Xettet0* 

To  svfim  with  thee  far  out  into  the  bay, 
A  trembling  glitter  on  the  waves,  the  shore 
Glowing  with  noontide  fervor,  nevermore 
To  fear  the  treacherous  depths,  though  long 

the  way. 
Sweet    beyond    words    the    sighs    that 

breathe  and  blow, 

The  moist  salt  kisses,  and  the  glad  warm 
glow. 

And  when  the  unrest,  the  vague  desires  that 

rush 

Over  our  lives  and  may  not  be  denied, — 
Gone  in  the  tasting, — lure  us  where  the 

tide 

Of  men  sweeps  on,  let  us  forget  the  hush 
Together,  and  in  city  madness  drain 
Our  cup  of  pleasure  to  its  dregs  of  pain. 

Ever  I  need  thee.     Incomplete  and  poor 
This  life  of  mine.     Yet  never  dream  my 

soul 
Craves  the  old  peace.     Till  I  may  have 

the  whole 

62 


Woman's  3Love*£ettet0. 


My  joy  is  my  abiding,  and  what  more 
Of  dreams  and  waking  bliss  the   Fates 

allow 
Comes  as  a  gift  of  Love's  great  overflow. 


DEEP  in  the  green  bracken  lying, 
Close  by  the  welcoming  sea, 

Dream  I,  and  let  all  my  dreaming 
Drift  as  it  will,  Love,  to  thee. 

Sated  with  splendid  caresses 
Showered  by  the  sun  in  his  pride, 

Scorched  by  his  passionate  kisses 
Languidly  ebbs  the  tide. 


ife's  Jogs 

I  HAVE  been  pondering  what  our  teachers 

call 
The    mystery    of    Pain ;    and    lo !    my 

thought 
After  its    half-blind    reaching  out   has 

caught 
This  truth  and  held  it  fast.     We  may  not 

fall 
Beyond  our  mounting;   stung  by   life's 

annoy, 
Deeper  we  feel  the  mystery  of  Joy. 

Sometimes    they   steal   across    us   like   a 

breath 

Of  Eastern  perfume  in  a  darkened  room, 
These  joys  of  ours  ;  we  grope  on  through 

the  gloom 

Seeking  some  common  thing,  and  from  its 
sheath 

65 


Woman'a  3Love*Xctters. 


Unloose,  unknowing,   some  bewildering 

scent 
Of    spice-thronged     memories     of     the 

Orient. 

Sometimes  they  dart  across  our  turbid  sky 
Like  a  quick  flash  after  a  heated  day. 
A  moment,  where  the  sombrous  shadows 

lay 

We  see  a  glory.     Though  it  passed  us  by 
No  earthly  power  can  filch  that  dazzling 

glow 

From  memory's  eye,  that  instant's  shine 
and  show. 

Life  is  so  full  of  joys.     The  alluring  sea, 
This  morning  clear  and  placid,  may,  ere 

night, 
Toss  like  a  petulant  child,  and  when  the 

light 
Of  a  new  morning  dawns  sweep  grand  and 

free 

A  mighty  power.     If  fierce,  or  mild,  or 
bright, 

With  every  tide  flows  in  a  fresh  delight. 
66 


Woman's 


I  can  remember  well  when  first  I  knew 

The  fragrance  of  white  clover.     There  I 
lay 

On  the  warm  July  grass  and  heard  the 

play 

Of  sun-browned  insects,  and  the    breezes 
blew 

To  my  drowsed  sense  the  scent  the  blos- 
soms had ; 

The  subtle  sweetness  stayed,  and  I  was 
glad. 

Nor  passed  the  gladness.    Though  the  years 

have  gone 

(A  many  years,  Beloved,  since  that  day,) 
Whenever  by  the  roadside  or  away 
In  radiant  summer  fields,  wandering  alone 
Or   with   glad   children,  to   my  restless 

sight 

Shows  that  pale  head,  comes  back  the  old 
delight. 


Oh  !  the  dark  water,  and  the  filling  sail ! 
67 


tKHoman'0  3Love*Xetters. 


The  scudding  like  a  sea-mew,   with  the 

hand 
Firm  on  the  tiller  !     See,  the  red-shored 

land 

Receding,  as  we  brave  the  hastening  gale  ! 
White   gleam    the    wave-tops,    and    the 

breakers'  roar 
Sounds  thunderingly  on  the  far  distant 

shore. 

This  mad  hair  flying  in  the  breeze  blows  wild 
Across  my  face.     See,  there,  the  gather- 

ing squall, 
That  dark  line  to  the  eastward,  watch  it 

crawl 
Stealthily  towards  us  o'er  the  snow-wreaths 

piled 

Close  on  each  other  !     Ah  !  what  joy  to  be 
Drunk  with  salt  air,  in  battle  with  the  sea  ! 

So  many  joys,  and  yet  I  have  but  told 
Of  simple  things,  the  joys  of  air  and  sea  ! 
Not  all  these  things  are  worth  one  hour 

with  thee, 

68 


B  TKHoman's 


One  moment,  when  thy  daring  arms  enfold 
My  body,  and  all  other,  meaner  joys, 
Fade  from  me  like  a  child's  forgotten 
toys. 

One  thought  is  ever  with  me,  glorying  all 
Life's  common  aims.     Surely  will  dawn 

a  day 
Bright  with  an  unknown  rapture,  when 

thy  way 

Will  be  my  journey-road,  and  I  can  call 
These  joys  our  joys,  for  thou  wilt  walk 

with  me 
Down  budding  pathways  to  the  abounding 

sea. 


Low  laughed  the  Columbine, 
Trembled  her  petals  fine 

As  the  breeze  blew ; 
In  her  dove-heart  there  stirred 
Murmurs  the  dull  bee  heard, 
And  Love,  Life's  wild  white  bird, 

Straightway  she  knew. 

Resting  her  lilac  cheek 
Gently,  in  aspect  meek, 

On  the  gray  stone, 
The  morning-glory,  free, 
Welcomed  the  yellow  bee, 
Heard  the  near-rolling  sea 

Murmur  and  moan. 
70 


Woman's  3Love==£etter0. 


Calm  lay  the  tawny  sand 
Stretching  a  long  wet  hand 

To  the  far  wave. 
Swift  to  her  warm  waiting  breast 
Longing  to  be  possessed 
Leaps  'neath  his  billowy  crest 

Her  Lover  brave. 


larter 

THERE  is  a  long  thin  line  of  fading  gold 
In   the   far  West,  and   the  transfigured 

leaves 
On  some  slight,  topmost  bough  that  sways 

and  heaves 
Hang  limp  and  tremulous.     Nor  warm,  nor 

cold 
The  pungent  air,  and,  'neath  the  yellow 

haze, 
Show  flushed  and  glad  the  wild,  October 

ways. 

There  is  a  soft  enchantment  in  the  air, 
A  mystery  the  Summer  knows  not,  nor 
The  sturdy,  frost-crowned  Winter.     Nat- 
ure wore 

Her  blandest    smile  to-day,  as   here   and 
there 

72 


toman's 


I  wandered,  elf-beset,  through  wood  and 

field 
And  gleaned  the  glories  of  the  autumn 

yield. 

A  bunch  of  purple  aster,  golden-rod 

Darkened  by  the  first  frost,  a  drooping 

spray 

Of  scarlet  barberry,  and  tall  and  gray 
The   silk-cored    cotton    with    its    bursting 

pod, 
Some  tarnished  maple-boughs,  and,  like  a 

flash 
Of  sudden  flame,  a  branch  of  mountain 

ash. 

She  smiled,  but  it  was  not  the  welcoming 

smile 

Of  frank  surrender.     As  a  witching  maid 

In  gorgeous  garments  cunningly  arrayed 

Might    smile  and  draw  them  closer,  hers 

the  guile 
To  let  men  hope,   pray,  labor  in   love's 

stress 

Ere  they  her  hidden  beauties  may  possess. 
73 


Woman's  Xov>e*3Letter0. 


Deep  in   the    heart    of    earth   where    the 

springs  rise, 
Down   with   the  sweet   linnaea   and   the 

moss, 
In   the  brown  thrush's  throat,  where  the 

pines  toss 

In  Winter's  harrying  storms  her  secret  lies. 
Ours  the  chill  night-dews  and  the  waiting 

pain 
Ere  we  her  fairy  wealth  may  hope  to  gai::. 

Tis  so  with  knowledge.     Eagerly  we  turn 
Great   Wisdom's    page,    and   when  our 

clear  eyes  grow 
Dim   in   the   dusk  of  years,  and  heads 

bend  low 

Weary  at  last,  the  truth  we  strove  to  learn 
Is  ours  forever.     But  its  joy  of  sight 
Is  dearly  bought,  methinks,  with  Youth's 
delight. 

Fate,  too,  with  chaffering  voice  and  beckon- 

ing hand 

Doles  out  our  happiness  ;  we  snatch  at 
wealth 

74 


3Love*Xetters. 


And  pay  with  anxious  care  and  fading 

health. 
We  call  for  Love,  and  dream  that  we  shall 

stand 
On  ground  enchanted,  but,  though  sweet 

the  way, 
The   rocks   are   sharp,  and  grief  comes 

with  the  Day. 

Even   in   love,    Dear    Heart,   there   is   ex- 

change 

Of  gifts  and  griefs,  and  so  I  render  thee 
Vows   for  thy  vows,    and   pay   unfalter- 

ingly 
What   love    demands,    nor    ever  deem   it 

strange. 
And    when   the    snow    drifts   fast,    and 

north-winds  sting 
I  make  no  murmur,  but  await  the  Spring. 


75 


JOY  came  in  youth  as  a  humming-bird, 
(Sing  hey !  for  the  honey  and  bloom  of 

life!) 

And  it  made  a  home  in  my  summer  bower 
With   the   honeysuckle  and  the  sweet-pea 

flower. 

(Sing  hey  !  for  the  blossoms  and  sweets 
of  life  ! ) 

Joy  came  as  a  lark  when   the  years  had 

gone, 
(Ah !  hush,  hush  still,  for  the  dream  is 

short ! ) 

And  I  gazed  far  up  to  thj  melting  blue 
Where  the  rare  song  dropped  like  a  golden 

dew. 
(Ah  !  sweet  is  the  song  tho'  the  dream  be 

short ! ) 

76 


Woman's  Hove^Xetters. 


Joy  hovers  now  in  a  far-off  mist, 

(The  night  draws  on  and  the  air  breathes 

snow  I) 
And  I  reach,   sometimes,  with  a  trembling 

hand 
To  the  red-tipped  cloud  of  the  joy-bird's 

land. 

(Alas  \  for  the  days  of  the  storm  and  the 
snow  \  ) 


BUT  one  short  night  between  my  Love  and 
me  ! 

I  watch  the  soft-shod  dusk  creep  wist- 
fully 

Through  the  slow-moving  curtains,  paus- 
ing by 
And  shrouding  with  its  spirit-fingers  free 

Each  well-known  chair.     There  is  a  grow- 
ing grace 

Of  tender  magic  in  this  little  place. 

Comes  through  half-opened  windows,  soft 

and  cool 
As   Spring's  young  breath,    the  vagrant 

evening  air, 
My   day-worn   soul   is   hushed.      I   fain 

would  bear 
No  burdens  on  my  brain  to-night,  no  rule 


21  TKHoman's  %ove*1Letter0. 

Of  anxious  thought ;  the  world  has  had 

my  tears, 
My  thoughts,  my  hopes,  my  aims  these 

many  years  ; 

This  is  Thy  hour,  and  I  shall  sink  to  sleep 

With  a  glad  weariness,  to  know  that  when 

The  new  day  dawns  I  shall  lay  by  my  pen 

Needed  no  more.     If  I,  perchance,  should 

weep 
A  few  quick  tears,  so  doing,  who  would 

guess 

'Twas  the   last  throb  of  my  soul's  loneli- 
ness ? 

Not  even  thou,  Dear  Heart,  canst  ever  know 
How  I  have  yearned  these  many  months, 

these  years 
For  love,  for  thee.     As  the  calm  boatman 

steers 

His  slender  shallop  where  he  fain  would  go 
Tempests  and  rocks  before,  so  through 

the  dark 

To  this  dim,  far-off  day  has  set  my  bark. 
79 


TKHoman's  3Lov>e*%etter0. 


To-morrow  !     I  can  hear  the  quick-closed 

door, 
The  approaching  steps,  my  pained  heart's 

fluttering, 
Thy   voice,    then   Thee  !      And   all   the 

storm  and  sting 

Of  bygone  griefs  are  passed  forevermore, 
Swept  from  my  life  as  the  resistless  wind 
Scatters  the  chaff,  nor  leaves  a  mote  be- 

hind. 

As  long-imprisoned  captives  reach  the  light, 
And  gaze  with  greedy  eyes  on  field  and 

tree, 

Drinking  the  beauties  of  the  sky  and  sea 
Half   fearful   of  their  bliss  ;    so   from  the 

night 
Of  dreams  and  shades,  half  doubting,  we 

awake 
And   grasp   the   joy  we   almost  fear  to 

take. 

Thou   hidest  in   thy   warm   ones   my   cold 
hand, 

80 


B  Woman's  3Lo\>e*3Letter0. 

Reading  my  soul  in  these  unwavering  eyes. 
Nay,    thou   hast   known    my   hopes,  my 

agonies 

Through  written  words,  and  thou  canst  un- 
derstand. 
I   have    kept   nothing   back   of   all   the 

streams 

Of  my  heart-flowings — doubts,  nor  fears, 
nor  dreams. 

So  long  my  life  has  followed  no  control 
But  mine  own  impulse  ;  now,  I  pray  thee, 

bend 

My  will  to  thine,  and  so,  unhindered,  tend 
My  soul's  wild  garden.     I  have  laid  the 

whole 
Bare  to  thy  sowing ;  and  life's  precious 

wine 
Is  of  thy  pouring,  and  thy  way  is  mine. 


Si 


WHERE  is  the  waiting-time  ? 

Where  are  the  fears  ? 
Gone  with  the  winter's  rime, 

The  bygone  years. 

O'er  life's  plain,  lone  and  vast, 

Slow  treads  the  morn, 
Night  shades  have  moved  and  passed, 

Joy's  day  is  born. 

THE   END. 


82 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


JUN7   '79 

*5  «""*, 


i-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 


3  2106  0021      5613 


• 


